Glimpses
by Carousel
Summary: He sat alone in his room setting up the board and playing both sides. He was grateful that the pieces could speak, if only to give advice and tell him the moves he was making were ridiculous.


I do not own Harry Potter.

Some Ron/Draco. Also some **spoilers**.

**Glimpses**

When he was five he went to play with other kids. Kids who did not have red hair or freckles.

They made fun of him. They looked and laughed and made teasing remarks.

He hasn't forgotten the comment of "What curse were you hit with to make your skin spotty?"

He also hasn't forgotten the girl who pulled a chunk of his hair out to show her mother.

How could he forget such events? The lowest points are always remembered, especially for him.

He had tried telling his brothers, but they were too busy flinging dirt at one another to notice. He had tried to tell his mother, but she was too busy with his younger sister to notice.

He wasn't noticed.

And he still hasn't forgotten that he's often forgotten.

* * *

When he was nine, his parents let him pick out his own birthday gift. It was the first time he was getting something new. Not a hand me down.

He chose a wizard's chess set.

One of his older brother's had played with him when he first got it. But after a while, all of his siblings were bored of the game.

So it came to be that no one ever wanted to play with him. Instead, he sat alone in his room setting up the board and playing both sides. He was grateful that the pieces could speak, if only to give advice and tell him the moves he were making were ridiculous.

Those chess pieces became his companions for he felt he did not have anyone else.

* * *

When he was eleven he boarded the Hogwarts Express.

He made one friend.

And made one enemy.

His family was poor. He had always known it yet he never gave it too much thought. Why dwell on one more hindering aspect of his life? He didn't want to.

Until the pale boy with platinum hair mentioned it.

He was poor. He was wearing his brothers' old robes. He had his brother's old wand. His brothers' old books.

And yet he barely had his brothers' friendship.

* * *

When he was twelve his younger sister had been taken by Tom Riddle. He could not do anything about it.

Instead of focusing all of his anger onto the real evil, he focused much of it on that boy with the platinum hair. On Malfoy.

And, of course, while he was seething and worrying his sister was saved. By his best mate Harry Potter. The hero.

By anyone but him.

* * *

When he was fourteen his anger turned from Malfoy to Harry. Harry, who put his name into the goblet of fire without telling him. 

So much for best mates.

They stopped talking. And that was when his first run in with Malfoy in the hall turned for the worst.

"Harry knows you're a disgrace. You know you're a disgrace. Don't delude yourself into ever thinking you could have made it into the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"Bugger off Malfoy."

"What? Can't handle the truth?"

Ron just shoved him into the wall. And instead of taking a swing like he should have, he kissed him.

For about two seconds. And then he quickly pulled away and ran out of there wondering what on earth he was thinking while thanking Merlin that nobody was in the hall to see his mental lapse.

Not that anyone would have noticed though... He was no one except the hero's sidekick and now he wasn't even that.

* * *

When he was fifteen he realized that he was, in fact, attracted to both the sexes. Bisexual if you will. And that he was attracted to Draco Malfoy.

Draco (when did he start calling him that?) was perfect in every way Ron wished he was. He was beautiful. Both men and women could plainly see that. He was smart. He had money. He had friends. He had influence.

And soon he had Ron.

Ron knew that it was all a matter of time until their fights turned into something more. He knew that Draco had kissed back, if only for a second, back in their fourth year. And when they ended up in a floor of an empty classroom kissing, biting, and groping it started their secret affair.

The more they were mean to each other, the better their encounters would be. All of their pent up emotions combined with anger exhilarated the other.

Ron looked forward to their meetings. He looked forward to be wanted. For once, he felt okay with being himself.

Until Draco stopped seeing him because his father was put into Azkaban. By his best fucking mate.

* * *

When he was sixteen he found out Draco had been in contact with the Death Eaters. It was word of mouth but it pained Ron to know that his former lover, with so much potential, would never be his again.

It became easier when Lavender Brown had a crush on him. Yes, he used her. But it was to get over someone else.

Who he did not get over. Who he eventually forgave. Who he was seeing on the side while keeping up pretenses with Lavender. Who was continually getting more secretive and hard to see.

They had at it one night.

"Fuck Draco. This is the one night I get to see you and it's like you aren't even here."

"Weasley, if you want a fuck that badly, turn over."

"This isn't about that!"

"Then what?"

"Why won't you talk to me? Tell me what's going on? I could help!"

"My affairs do not concern you. We fuck Weasley. We aren't lovers and we most definitely do not share secrets."

"That's all I am?"

"Yes. What do you expect? Me to confess an undying love for you?" He laughed.

And Ron ran out of there. He went into the edge of the forbidden forest and cried. He willed for some magical creature to come and- well he didn't know what, but he wished something could take away his pain.

That was when he started seeing Hermione.

It was okay. Nothing amazing. But at least he wasn't alone.


End file.
